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The line between true self and feigned self is blurred on all sides. Which I think is a rather handy metaphor for falling in love.

Gayle Forman

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Gayle Forman
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 5
Writer
LA
California
Love
Falling
Think
Line
Thinking
Sides
Lines
Rather
Feigned
Fall
Blurred
True
Handy
Self
Metaphor

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Nothing happens without intention, Willem. Nothing. This theory of yours - life is rules by accidents - isn't that just one huge excuse for passivity?
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I realize it’s not just Willem I’m looking for it’s Lulu too.
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If these walls could talk, I wonder what secrets they'd tell.
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My stomach lurched, an appetizer before the full portion of heartache I had a feeling was going to be served at some point soon.
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I don't know who I am. Or maybe I do know who I am and I just don't want to be her anymore.
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Because if time can be fluid, then maybe something that is just one day can go on indefinitely
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My first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simple want to touch her cheek, still flushed from the night's performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet-not miles, not continents, not years-and to take a callused finger to her face.
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Sarcasm creates a chasm between yourself and others.
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You meet people, you part ways, sometimes you cross paths again. Mostly, you don't.
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She left for Juilliard the day after Labor Day. I drove her to the airport. She kissed me good-bye. She told me that she loved me more than life itself. Then she stepped through security. She never came back.
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Suddenly, it's all too much. Bryn and the bump watch. Vanessa with my high school yearbook. The idea that nothing's sacred. Everything's fodder. That my life belongs to anyone but me.
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Love can make you immortal
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By that point, it’ll have been more than year since I met Lulu. Any sane person would say it’s too late. It already felt too late that first day, when I woke up in the hospital. But even so, I’ve kept looking. I’m still looking.
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If I stay. If I live. It's up to me.
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I have a feeling that once you live through something like this, you become a little bit invincible.
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I realize then that it's not enough to know what someone is called. You have to know who they are.
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All relationships are tough. Just like with music, sometimes you have harmony and other times you have cacophony.
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The boogeyman sleeps on your side of the bad Whispers in my ear :Better of Dead Fills my dreams with sirens and lights of regret Kisses me gently when i wake up in a sweat boo!
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There are like twenty people in that waiting room right now. Some of them are related to you. Some of them are not. But we're all your family.' She stops now. Leans over me so that the wisps of her hair tickle my face. She kisses me on the forehead. 'You still have a family,' she whispers.
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